all_along_the_way (Nordschaf)



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  1. Public Bookmark 5

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    At last, the Corinthian looks at Dream and smiles. “Enjoying the show?” He says, bending over in a mocking bow. “My lord. Should I dance some more for you?”
    _

    Seeking some retrospection on his most wayward creation, Morpheus dives into the dreams of those who survived the whims of the late Corinthian.

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    02 Sep 2023

  2. Public Bookmark 8

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    Just a bit of brainstorming on an idea of "what if the remade Corinthian didn't have the memories of his first life? And what if he would gradually regain them but not in the best way possible?"

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    02 Sep 2023

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “Isn’t this nice?” says Aziraphale with badly feigned casualness the next time Crowley stops by for a late night drink.

     

    Crowley is all set to reply, words lined up in his mouth waiting to go, when Aziraphale adds,

    “I mean, all of the books and furniture and bottles of wine and things?”

     

     

    Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.

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    31 Aug 2023

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “Are you alright? What’s all this about then?”

    “Ah. Well. I might have slipped.”

    “Slipped?”

    “Took a bit of a tumble, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said. “But, well. What’s done is done.”

    “What’s done - ?”

    “Now that I’m no longer beholden to a rather arbitrary moral code, I have to ask: Do you pay taxes? Actually, more importantly, do you think I can stop paying taxes now? That seems like a sufficiently demonic thing to do. Refusing to do my civic duty and whatnot. Quite devious, I’d argue.”

    This was, in hindsight, not the most sensitive way of breaking the news.

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    31 Aug 2023

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.
    ---
    Why? Aziraphale wanted to ask him, why millennia of the way things were, and now this?

    But while Crowley seemed to have little issue upending every unspoken rule they’d ever written for themselves, Aziraphale was not so flexible, and they had spent thousands of years never quite addressing whatever it was this had stemmed from. Words, Aziraphale had always felt, were for bickering about where to eat for lunch, or hashing out ontological debates, or other trivial nonsense; there was no need to trifle with the imprecision of language, with phrasing and the possibility of being misconstrued, when it came to important matters if the other person simply understood, without needing it said. Six thousand years ago, when Aziraphale had met Crowley on the wall of Eden, watching the first two humans set out to begin the rest of history, something deep within him, more central even than his Grace, had thought, oh, it’s you, and that had been enough for him--for both of them, he assumed--for three millennia.

    However much he wanted to ask, he didn’t know how. The words simply weren’t there.

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    31 Aug 2023

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